Montreal, 1999
by starryeyed68
Summary: One concert. One key night in the life of Boyz Attack's Little Tommy Q.


Montreal, 1999

(Author's note: Okay, my strange fascination with the inner workings of Tommy's psyche continues. Seriously, does anyone else wonder why he is the way he is? So, since we don't know much about his past, I decided to invent some stuff. This little "chapter" actually relates to another story I'm planning- a sequel (really a prequel!) to my "IS- Rise of..." epic (am I weird for planning a sequel to a story with only four finished chapters?). But I was seized by the urge to write this now, and being completely unable to delay any sort of possible gratification, couldn't wait to share it. Again, it's a "musical" fanfic, in the style of "Supposed Rockstar"- thanx! You've inspired yet another one... This one's for you, girl! The song in this chapter is the Garbage track "Stupid Girl" (with lyrics slightly changed to make it fit), which rumor has it will appear in the second episode of season 2 (only two more months! Yay!)

The usual disclaimer- I don't own Instant Star, the song in this story, etc...

Oh, and the usual request- please, please post feedback! I soooo love it!

Montreal, 1999

Backstage at the arena, a young man paced restlessly. Waiting to go on always sucked! He was dressed as usual, in the regulation immaculate white suit, with a matching bandanna tied around his forehead. He secretly hated the outfit; it made him uncomfortable. Definitely not his style! But the fans loved it! So, it was okay by him!

_And now here they are... Boyz Attack!_

The lights were always too bright in these stadiums, hot enough to burn. Or at least to illuminate every flaw and highlight every imperfection. To reveal secrets best left unsaid... But, as always, he forgot everything, swept up in his onstage persona.

_You pretend you're high_

_You pretend you're bored_

_You pretend you're anything_

_Just to be adored_...

He flashed his trademark, knowing smile, at the audience, moving through the carefully choreographed routine. Damm, but he loved this! The crowds, the fame, the money... the girls. He had a different one in every town.

_And what you need_

_Is what you get..._

This was his world now. Adultation had become his drug; it sustained him. With it, with this, he could finally escape.

_Don't believe in fear_

_Don't believe in faith_

_And don't believe in anything_

_That you can break..._

Finally, he was away from his so-called father. The abusive, alcoholic bastard.

_You stupid boy_

_You stupid boy_

_All you had you wasted..._

Onstage, he continued to work it. His practiced glance quickly spotted the hottest chicks in the audience. He rewarded them with his steamiest eye contact; he loved watching their reactions.

_What drives you on_

_Can drive you mad_

_A million lies to sell yourself_

_Is all you ever had..._

Chances are, he'd hook up with one of them after the show. Or someone just like that. He'd meet her backstage, in his dressing room or back at the hotel. It made no difference to him. They'd have a few drinks, party... so friggin easy!

_Don't believe in love_

_Don't believe in hate_

_And don't believe in anything_

_That you can waste_

Something registered in the dimmest reaches of his mind. Wasn't his mother supposed to come to tonight's show? Well, he'd see her for a few minutes, then easily blow her off with some fabricated story. She'd accept it and he had other things to do...

_You stupid boy_

_You stupid boy_

_Can't believe you fake it..._

He felt a flash of guilt. He'd done this before. Probably, he would again. He knew she loved him, but seeing her was too painful... He loved her too, but just couldn't deal. She made him think... She forced him to remember...

_Don't believe in fear_

_Don't believe in pain_

_Don't believe in anyone_

_That you can tame_

_You stupid boy_

_You stupid boy_

_All you had, you wasted_

_You stupid boy_

_You stupid boy_

_Can't believe you fake it_

_Can't believe you fake it_

_You stupid boy._

He stepped offstage as the performance ended. Reluctantly, he renounced the spotlight, if not the persona. That show never ended. He stepped backstage and looked around. The usual. Reporters and paparazzi. Groupies and girls. Georgia, their PR person, stood with a sheaf of papers; typically this was where she barked orders at him. Tonight she was silent. Tommy stood at the man standing next to her. Someone he would never expect to see here...

"Darius?" he asked "What are you doing here? I thought the cardinal rule of music was that managers don't travel with their bands."

"This is different. I got news, Tom. Bad news."

Tommy was silent, as Darius reluctantly continued.

"Your mother was on her way here. There was a car accident..." he trailed off.

Tommy stared, frozen

"She died, Tom. I'm so sorry"

"Me, too." Georgia added, genuinely sympathetic. "I can imagine how hard this is for you."

"There's more. And I don't know how to say it..." Darius elaborated

"Just say it, D"

"She actually convinced your father to come to this concert."

Tommy was dumbstruck. That had never happened before.

"He was the one driving the car." Darius said.

"Is he alright?' Tom asked numbly, not sure what to feel.

"He's fine. Some bumps, but he's fine. Except there's one thing..."

"Yeah?"

"He was drunk when he drove.'

"He killed her" Tommy said, completely flumoxed . Instantly, he ceased to think or feel, perhaps he never truly would again. At least, not with total honesty. How could he? His one genuine link to his past, to his reality had disappeared. Left now was only a world of illusion. His delusion. Now, he could fully and wholeheartedly embrace it. And he would.

_You stupid boy_

_You stupid boy_

_All you had you wasted_

_You stupid boy_

_You stupid boy_

_Can't believe you fake it_

A sleek, stylized, carefully contrived public image managed to conceal, if not absorb, his inner torment. Hiding it not only from others, but from himself as well.

_Can't believe you fake it!_


End file.
